A Vision to None
by Bluehaven4220
Summary: With many years of campaigning and a complicated history between them, Hephaestion slowly begins to realize that there are things more important than Alexander.
1. Broken Children

**Title: A Vision to None**

**Author: Bluehaven4220**

**Pairing: Hephaestion/OC, Hephaestion/Alexander**

**Summary: With many years of campaigning and a complicated history between them, Hephaestion slowly begins to realize that there are things more important than Alexander.**

**A/N: Hello everyone! It has been a very long time since I have written an Alexander story, as I needed to go away and try my hand at other fandoms for a while to allow my writing style to grow and mature. But now I am back. This story is a sort of take- off from my story 'Map of the World', which you do _not_ have to read to understand. Enjoy, and feel free to leave a review, the door is always open. **

**A/N 2: Hephaestion's wife's name is pronounced Heh-shay-lay, but for the sake of simplicity he will more often than not call her Shaye.**

**ooOoo**

_She's got her name on Gotham's tongue, but Mama Fame she eats her young. And half a buck ain't half the price you pay. When you got broken children, shot in black and white, chasing wasted lives, and they can't wait to go there._

_Broken Children- Peter Cincotti_

**ooOoo**

It did not take very long for me to accept that home was no longer the place I had once thought it would be. If you cannot truly go home because home is always changing, then I am inclined to believe that it is true. I can still remember the day we left Macedon, as much as it pains me to do so. My bride Heshaylae, stomach swelled beyond the point of being able to hide her condition, kissed me thoroughly, knowing this may well have been the last time she would ever see me.

Once she let me go, telling me that she loved me more than she had ever thought possible, she moved to her father, who very nearly wept. He knew he would very likely never see his grandchild, or grandchildren, whichever the case may be. For only a belly of four months, she was _large_. There could be almost no doubt that she carried at least two in her womb. In truth, I do not believe her father has forgiven me for taking her as my wife, I know very well that I am not his first choice for her. He would much rather she had married a merchant, someone who would give her a stable income on which to live comfortably. However, he grudgingly accepted our marriage. She loved me, and had offered herself to me as my bride very early on. I had hesitated, not understanding that perhaps I could love her as I did Alexander, because at this point I did not. I loved her as the mother of my children, but that was all.

As her father let her go, kissing her as a man will kiss her beloved daughter goodbye, he mounted his stead and rode on with Alexander and myself. There was such hatred for me in his eyes, but I understood why. I had lain with his daughter, a pure blooded Macedonian virgin, and had gotten her with child. Such an event is usually a joyous occasion for any father, until he discovers that the man who foisted his daughter with bastard children spent so much time in Alexander's company, and no doubt, his bed.

Wait a minute, bastards? I hear you ask. But you say you were married. Yes we were married, but that does not mean her father did not think me enough of a cad to take his daughter before we had married, which I had. Until we married, the children had been considered bastards. But again, I am digressing.

I could only look back once, to see her swallow a sob and go back into the house, a handkerchief clutched in her hands. She had wished me good luck and health, same as her father.

As we rode, I began to wonder if I had done the right thing in joining Alexander on this campaign. Despite the fact that he and I were the best of friends, and had been since boyhood, I had never once doubted him. But something had changed. I do not know if it was my sense of duty, or the fact that I now had a wife and children on their way.

Heshaylae's father glared at me as we rode. Perhaps I should stop dancing about the issue of his name and say it outright. Heshaylae was the daughter of none other than Cleitus the Black, one of Philip's most trusted advisors. Of course, the fact that he now served Alexander had no bearing on the fact that he was my father-in-law, and that I was a monstrous sod for taking up a position alongside Alexander when Shaye (very rarely did I call her Heshaylae) needed me at home. She already had one family member within the army, what did she need both her husband and her father serving the same man for?

Again, I must say that I do it because I love Alexander, as he has loved me from the time we were children. Do not misunderstand me. We are not lovers, I speak merely of a friendship that runs much deeper than you could possibly imagine. Let me explain why.

I first met Alexander at the age of seven. My father, Amyntor, had been a general in Philip's army, and frequently traveled to the palace at Pella to discuss the many campaigns the two were involved in. He had done this as far back as I can remember, but that day was the first time I can remember him taking me with him. I believe this only happened because my mother had died, and she had been the one preventing him from taking me along on these excursions. From what I remember she did not want me involved with any sort of military campaign, or anything that had to do with what my father called 'the art of war'. She was constantly encouraging me to pick up paintbrushes and quills to paint and write instead of fighting.

However, once she died everything changed. I was now exclusively under my father's control, and he wanted me with him. Besides, I needed to know such things if I was ever going to grow into a man, he reasoned. I realize now, at an age much older than seven years, that it is nothing more than foolish propaganda, because I see now that there are many other men who have never stepped foot on a battlefield who are successful and can certainly call themselves men.

I apologize, I must stop digressing. Once I met Alexander, however, I could not help but think that he was so scrawny and small that there was no way he was Philip's son and therefore the next king of Macedonia. My father had told me Alexander was dark, and brooding, and acted far too much like his barbarian harpy mother Olympias. Now, I did not know what a harpy was, but I did know the word barbarian. I had always pictured a barbarian as a hulk-like figure dressed in dirty rags dragging a club along the ground. Surely Alexander's mother could not look like that, otherwise Philip would have never touched her with a ten- foot pike, never mind his hands. However absurd this image may seem, I resisted the urge to laugh until I met him.

When we stepped out of the carriage that had carried us to Pella, almost immediately I came face to face with the prince. He was blond, short, and smiling. As far as I could see he was not brooding at all, if someone brooded why would they smile? We were introduced, but both admittedly unsure of each other, at least until he reached out and gripped my shoulder, whispering "Bet you cannot catch me."

I, never being one to step away from a challenge, accepted it with almost no hesitation. Smiling, I ran after him, my father yelling after us.

Of course, we did not stop, simply because we did not hear him. I remember my nurse briefly reminding us not to go too far, just so she could still see us. I always did as she told me, because she'd always been so kind. I had never wanted to disappoint her, so we ran just far enough. We could still be heard and seen, but were far enough away that we could play without interruption.

Soon, my father was rushing toward us, nearly knocking my nurse (it is such a pity that I simply cannot remember her name) to the ground in such a rage as I have never seen before. Immediately stopping our game, Alexander and I fled into the trees on the grounds, trying to get away as quickly as possible. To this day I have no idea what would have upset my father so, but at that point I had no wish to find out.

We ran into the palace through the various corridors and hallways, trying to find a suitable place to hide. We bumped into all sorts of clay pots, busts, and carvings, destroying them as they fall to the floor. I do not remember where we ended up, but I know that in the end, my father found us. Dragging us both by the ear back to where Philip and his other generals sat, he ordered us to sit quietly and listen. I'm not sure what they were planning, but Alexander and I were clearly uncomfortable, as were the other members of the party. The only person I can remember actually being slightly sympathetic to our plight was Cleitus, though you would not think to look at him now that he was ever a sympathetic individual. He was not that much older than the two of us, and by that I mean no more than twenty years older, so it seemed a fair assumption that he was not interested in having boys sit in on something meant for men.

Once the members of the meeting had finally been plied with food and drink, Alexander and I managed to slip away, unsure of what to do with ourselves now that we had been privy to something that seemed so foreign and far away from us.

So, we did what most children do in times of great stress and misunderstanding. We curled up on a patch of grass and slept.

We awoke to my father shaking me, telling me that we must return home. As such, I must get up off my useless behind and get into the carriage, where my nurse was waiting. He was going to have pay Philip dearly for the damage we'd done to the hallways, did I understanding how expensive it was? How could I be so careless?

As I rolled over onto my stomach, I forced myself to sit up and, as ashamed as I am to admit it, I begged my father to let me stay with Alexander. I promised on pain of a beating so severe I would wish I were dead that I would behave myself, because I wanted so badly to stay. If I stayed I would learn so much more. I could explore, I could meet many important people, I could study the classic authors and philosophy and botany and all the things he kept insisting were important to know if I ever wanted to learn about the art of war. I must admit it was quite impressive for a seven year old boy to think of all that while being dragged back to the carriage.

I am not sure what convinced him, whether it was the fact that I had said 'art of war', therefore cementing my career choice then and there, or the fact that I was seven years old and hard to handle or the fact that my father just did not want to bother with me any more than he had to, but he agreed to let me stay.

He visited often when he was not on campaign with Alexander's father, but by the time I was fourteen I realized that I no longer really needed him. I did, but not in a traditional sense. He was still my father, but we had barely spoken beyond anything concerning diplomatic matters. Usually, when one realizes they no longer have anything in common with someone else, they drift out of their life because their purpose has been fulfilled. By mutual agreement, my father and I decided that we would only speak on matters of diplomatic importance. However, he was my torch- bearer at my wedding, so I cannot say that our relationship suffered for our distance.

My relationship with Alexander had its share of ups and downs, as all relationships do, but once he had been crowned king after his father had been murdered before his eyes, he leaned on me more than ever to help him establish his right to rule. Of course, this meant keeping the majority of his father's men, which he thought useful, as did I.

Of course, everything changed when I met Cleitus' daughter, Heshaylae. But I will tell you more about that in due course.

Even now, on the eve of our departure, I cannot help but think that, even though I love Alexander, I am making a mistake. I understand that Cleitus' utter hatred for me will not disappear if I suddenly decide I am going to stay in Macedonia. But, if I stay, I am deemed a coward.

Either way, it seems I am damned.


	2. Simple Man

**A/N: Hello, hello! Here we have the second chapter. As you can see, this story is based on the film, not history, as no one has ever come back to tell us what might have actually happened. I am just enjoying writing Hephaestion and Alexander (along with a host of others) and throwing them into very difficult and complex situations. **

**A/N 2: At this point in history, the calendar in use was still the Roman calendar, and would remain so for roughly another 200 years. So, the date you see further into the chapter is correct. Any characters that you do not recognize from either the film or the history books (such as Heshaylae and the children) are mine, please ask before using for your own devices. Enjoy, and please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_Well Mama told me, when I was young. Said sit beside me, my only son. Listen closely, to what I say, and if you do this, it'll help you, some sunny day. Oh take your time, don't live too fast. Troubles will come, and they will pass. You'll find a woman, oh yeah, and you'll find love, and don't forget there is a someone, up above._

_Simple Man- Shinedown_

**ooOoo**

I do not recall if my mother had ever said such a thing to me, or if it was a dream I had. But then again dreams are sent from the Gods. Many times they are troubling and misleading, but in other times they are meant to tell us something. For example, as soon as Alexander was old enough to attend meetings on his father's behalf, Philip took another wife.

This angered both Alexander and his mother greatly, though I was barely concerned with Olympias. She was not my mother, and therefore meant very little to me. Never mind that she was Alexander's mother and therefore influenced a great deal of what he did. I had once been told that we can never escape our mother, and in Alexander's case, that was the absolute truth.

Nevertheless, I was at this wedding, as Alexander had asked of me. Macedonian weddings are known to have copious and overgenerous amounts of wine flow and, more often than not, a brawl can and will break out. Things seemed fairly well maintained, until the bride's uncle Attalus hurled out the most horrid insult I'd ever heard. I've heard worse since then, but at that point, I had not.

I remember Alexander, absolutely enraged, standing up and throwing a wine goblet at the man.

"What do you take me for then, you son of a dog?"

Attalus threw his goblet back, very narrowly missing Alexander. I, not content to allow such a thing to happen, ran and threw myself into the middle of the brawl, all the while Philip yelling that it was his wedding, and not some public brawl. Once we'd broken apart, he continued shouting that Alexander had insulted him, and must apologize before Alexander dishonoured him.

"You say this in defense of a man who called my mother a whore and me a bastard? And I dishonour you?"

Once Alexander insisted he would not apologize to someone who was surely no kinsman of his, and that Philip should choose his relatives more carefully, he turned to leave, and I with him. But not before Philip drew his sword, and, drunk, tripped, sprawling on the floor.

"And here is the man who plans to lead you from Greece to Asia! He cannot even make it from one couch to the next!"

"Get out!" Philip shouted. "Get out! You're banished!" I could almost swear I heard Philip choke back a sob. "You're no son of mine!"

Whatever else he said, we did not stay to hear it. Alexander and I retreated to his room, where he flopped back on the end and sighed.

"This is the wine talking, Alexander," I assured him, sitting down beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever your father says while drunk, he will forget by morning. A drunken sod now, a completely different man in the morning. This is how he has always been. Why does it seem so much more now?"

"Because I am not of pure blood," Alexander murmured, sitting up and pulling me to him. "I am half-Macedonian, not full."

"You are still his son, your mother is still his wife. You are still heir to the throne." I pulled whatever I could from thin air in an attempt to pacify him.

"Damn it, Hephaestion, that no longer matters!" he nearly shouted against my shoulder. "Whatever sons he may have with Eurydice would now be his successors! I am left with nothing. Even you have your wife, you do not need me!"

It was now that I realized Alexander was more dependent on me than I had known before. He was right, I did have Heshaylae, but only to please both my father and hers had I married her. I loved her as much as I could, which admittedly was not enough. In fact, there were times where I'm sure I downright neglected her in favour of Alexander, simply because Alexander needs me that much more.

But now, after the wedding, I knew and understood that the only way for Alexander to be able to function properly would be to sleep. There was nothing to be accomplished tonight, other than anarchy if he were to return to the festivities. Instead, because he was so distraught, I would stay with him.

Later, as we lay curled together atop his bed, he tapped my hand wrapped around his waist.

"Phae?" he whispered.

He had not called me Phae since we were children. In fact, only Shaye (remember I said I rarely call her Heshaylae) had since taken to calling me Phae, since I had my own name for her.

Why did I constantly think of her while with Alexander?

"What, Alexander?" I whispered back, keeping my eyes closed.

"Are you proud of me?"

What kind of a question was that?

"Yes Alexander," I answered, shifting so that he might know that I was too tired to engage in any sort of conversation.

"I want you to think about it, Hephaestion," he prodded, not allowing me a moment's rest. "Do not tell me you are simply because I am Prince of Macedonia, that title means nothing to me."

Being far too tired to even attempt a coherent sentence, I rolled over and faced the other wall. I would have gotten up and left, but I simply had no strength. I also had no other option. Alexander needed me there.

I slept fitfully.

When Apollo sent the sun over the horizon the next morning, a young page running through the hallways awakened me, looking for Alexander. As far as I knew Philip had not wished to know where he and Olympias had planned to go, but Olympias had already left. Alexander and I had planned to leave as soon as possible. If Philip had known we were still there, I am not sure what would have happened. I am still not sure if Philip had forgotten what he had said, but from what Alexander told me, just before Philip's death, Philip had told him that if he ever insulted him again, he'd run his spear through him, never mind that Alexander was his son.

As I remember it, before this young page even had an idea of us still residing there, Alexander and I fled. I, home to Shaye, and he off toward his mother's brother's home. After that, I did not see him for quite a while. I do not remember seeing him again before the day his father was murdered.

And less than two months after that, Shaye told me she was sure she was carrying two in the womb. One child, she told me, she could handle, but not two, and damn my soul to Hades for ever making love to her and getting her into such a situation.

**ooOoo**

I can still see Shaye's face in my mind's eye, though we left Macedon well over seven months ago. Alexander had been preoccupied with taking whatever town that resisted him. It had been prophesied by the Oracle at Siwa that Alexander would be great. And to Alexander himself, this meant that he would be better than his father had ever been. This also meant that in order to accomplish this, he would make his way from Macedonia and into Asia, where we would turn barbarian into civilized Greek under Alexander's rule. Of course, this could only happen if Alexander had complete control of every town and city in between. Quite frankly, we moved so often I was more than slightly surprised to see a letter get to me.

Unfolding this letter that had a seal I did not recognize, my eyes went wide as I read. Shaye could not write, as many people could not, so I understood this was not her handwriting. From the inflection in the wording and tone of the letter I knew it could be from no other.

_14th October 329_

_My dearest Hephaestion,_

_I write to you from our home, my own mother sitting beside me. She does not let me sleep alone, saying that it is dangerous. She has even asked your father if he could find someone to stand outside the doors as often as possible. Since I am your wife, your father hesitated only for a moment. It seems that I am not considered important enough for immediate protection. But please do not worry yourself. These are dangerous times since you left, but we are not in immediate danger. In fact, I am not writing to you to inform you only of this. I write to tell you something else entirely._

_It is the evening on the 14__th__ October, as you can see from the date undoubtedly written at the top of this page. I do not know where you may be now, as it has been a very long seven months since I have seen you. I do not know how this will reach you, but those who have remained here have told me that anything I wish to send to you or the King will be sealed under an unrecognizable seal and sent in the strictest confidence. _

_Oh dear, I must be worrying you. I am so sorry, my love. Please do not think harshly of me. I am so weak and tired now that I am surprised I am able to talk. For you see, earlier today, your son and daughter were born to me. It was a very hard labour, at least seventeen hours of the most horrible pain I have ever experienced. The physician who assisted me told me that it was not uncommon for twins to take longer, as they were competing for the right to come forth first. I am sure you are wondering which of them won. Your son, Sevastianos, arrived precisely ten minutes before your daughter, Melissa. Both are strong and healthy, the physician telling me it is a miracle that I survived their birth. _

_If you would, I ask you this, please tell my father that he has two grandchildren, and that they are strong and healthy. Please tell him that I am alive, and that I eagerly await your return._

_Remember this above all else, Hephaestion. Though you are not here, you are still my husband, and I love you more than I can express in a letter written by a scribe. I hope you will return to me soon, as I cannot bear to know that I am not there with you._

_All my love,_

_Heshaylae _

In truth I am surprised that I did not feel more joy than fear at that very moment. If Shaye and the children were alone with only my father for protection, I could not bear to think what could possibly befall them. My father was an old man by this point, he would not be able to protect them forever. But perhaps it would not be needed forever, for I did not know when we would return, if we returned at all. I understand that sentence seems contradictory, but at the time it made complete sense.

But now, I had no choice but to find Cleitus as soon as possible, and tell him what Shaye had told me. No matter if neither of us wanted to speak, as it was we could not stand to be in the same room together. Now we were now always going to have _something_ to do with each other, thanks to our association through her. I am also sure that Shaye would want him to know from me if she could not deliver the news herself.

I found Cleitus sitting alone, staring at a piece of parchment. I have no idea what could be written there, but I do not believe he was reading it. For whatever reason, he looked worried. Cleitus was the most confident person I had ever met, aside from Alexander. I do not believe I had ever seen him waiver.

"Cleitus…" I sat across from him.

Looking up, he rolled his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I've had news from home."

He grunted.

"From Shaye…"

At the mention of his daughter's name, I had his full and complete attention. I knew from the moment I had married her that Cleitus would never fully give her to me. She would always be his in some capacity.

"She writes to tell me you have two grandchildren," I pushed the letter out toward him, a silent offer to read it if he wished.

His jaw dropped, his mouth slowly curling into an elated smile. He got up, walked round the table, and hugged me.

"She is alive?"

"Indeed. She bid me tell you so."

If he did not hate me so I wonder if he would have kissed me.

"Have you said anything to Alexander?"

"No. To you first."

I have never seen such joy in the man's face. Truly, I have not. At this point I am not sure he cares about the children so much as knowing that Shaye is indeed, alive. He let go of me, and sat back down, picking up the parchment to examine it.

"What did she call them?"

"The boy was born first, she called him Sevastianos."

"You're sure there were two?"

"Cleitus, by Athena there is no way Shaye could have been as large as she was without there being more than one in the womb."

"And the other child?"

"A girl. She is called Melissa."

"After the nymph who cared for Zeus?"

"I suppose so. Do you know of any other Melissa?"

"No, no I do not," he looked from the letter back to me. "You're absolutely sure Shaye is alive? Delivering twins as she did could have easily killed her."

By this point I realized he was not reading the letter at all, instead looking to me for reassurance that she was alive. After all, it was my fault that she had suffered so.

"Yes, I am absolutely sure."

He let out a breath I did not realize he had been holding.

As we continued our conversation (admittedly the first civil conservation we had shared since I'd married Shaye), we decided to keep the birth of the twins a secret from Alexander for as long as possible. After all, many of the men had families whom they had left behind, but for me to have a wife and not only a son but a daughter as well to distract me from my duty as one of Alexander's bodyguards… Zeus be with me.

Regrouping, Cleitus and I went our separate ways, absolutely stunned at what Shaye had written.

Little did I know it was to be our undoing.


	3. Song to Say Goodbye

**IveAbandonedControl: I sent you a private message, but I am going to answer you here as well. Thank you so much for all your comments. I am most definitely enjoying writing this, and will definitely continue. Thank you for the review.**

**A/N: As I've said before, this story follows the film, not history, and even then I have changed and rearranged a few events/ dialogues. Remember that this is a different take on Alexander and Hephaestion's relationship, and I am experimenting with different scenarios. But nevertheless, enjoy, and feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_You are one of God's mistakes. You crying, tragic waste of skin. I'm well aware of how it aches. And you still won't let me in. Now I'm breaking down your door, to try and save your swollen face. Though I don't like you anymore, you lying trying waste of space. My oh my, a song to say goodbye. A song to say goodbye, a song to say… before our innocence was lost, you were always one of those, blessed with lucky sevens, and a voice that make me cry._

_Song to Say Goodbye- Placebo_

**ooOoo**

I do not remember how long it took us to make the journey into India. All I really remember was that the pass over the Hindu Kush was blocked, and as such we had no choice but to create a detour through a place we were not familiar with. However, we had done the same all throughout this campaign, creating detours, but India was another beast entirely. She was a cruel mistress none of us were prepared for.

The advance party began shooting at men who lived in trees but spoke no language we had ever heard before. It wasn't until I was able to get close enough that I realized they were not men at all: they were animals, and they were called monkey.

Alexander was absolutely fascinated with these creatures, even going so far as to crouch down and hold its little hands in his, speaking to it and asking me if it would be able to speak back.

Even with this monkey I could not help but agonize over the fact that I should have been doing the same. Not with the monkeys, with my own children. Shaye would be raising Sevastianos and Melissa on her own, with only her mother and perhaps my father for help. Naturally my father would be little to no help at all, but that was not my concern. My concern was whether I would ever see them. I'd lost track of how long it had been since we had left Macedon, and truth be told, I was growing weary. A body can only take so much until it insists on a rest.

I must also say that Alexander's actions left much to be desired as well. After defeating Darius at Gaugamela, we had gone further east, where Alexander made as many alliances as he did enemies, even marrying a girl of no political importance, Roxana, and keeping a eunuch. I don't much approve of either of them, but for the sake of peace, I keep my mouth shut.

I had been Alexander's torch- bearer at his wedding, though as I've said before I was not in favour of this marriage at all. As we had all told him before we had left, announcing his marriage to a Macedonian would have cemented his position as the legitimate heir to the Macedonian throne, even if it was in his absence.

However, there was nothing I could do about it now. He had married Roxana, and from what I could see in his face, he genuinely loved her. And so, I went to his rooms that night with a gift wrapped in cloth for him.

I opened the door, a finger to my lips to keep him from greeting me aloud. I know Roxana had absolutely no use for me, thinking me a threat to her position in Alexander's life. To give him this gift, however, was important, for it now meant I knew he was no longer completely mine.

I opened the cloth, explaining that I had found it in Egypt, and, slipping it on his finger, I wished him success, health, and a son.

"And to you, Hephaestion, I wish you a son," he whispered in my ear.

My heart broke. I could not tell the man whom I had spent half my life with that I did indeed have a son. I could not tell him that my son's name was Sevastianos, and that, he, along with his twin sister Melissa had been born to me just before we had left Babylon.

I left his bridal chamber and went to sleep elsewhere in the palace.

That was well over two years ago, and the majority of the soldiers who were left had followed him from Macedon to this unknown land called India. Once we had left the monkeys well enough alone, we set up camp, hoping to reorganize and mount an attack against a little known king of another unknown tribe. Truthfully, it was starting to become a little redundant.

And then there was the rain.

Never had we seen such water that fell from the Gods. One of the young men whom Alexander had trained had been working in at least a foot of mud when he had been bitten in the neck by one of the many snakes that hid among the terrain. As Alexander shouted for Cleitus to bring the snake healers, the young man died in his arms.

Regardless, we carried on, settling in one of the Indian palaces, to watch the dancers, and drink until we could no longer see. With the water putrid, we had no choice but to drink the wine, which was much stronger than anything we had drunk before.

I can remember only a few details of that night. Alexander had watched his eunuch intently as he danced, and by the end had gotten up to kiss him. Now I had no problem with two men kissing, I had often done it myself, but I could not stand Bagoas. I did not think him a threat, but nothing more than a frivolity. I could separate one from the other, but in truth I did not understand why the sight of Alexander with Bagoas made me wish to vomit.

Once things had settled down, I heard Cleitus get up.

"I'll toast to Bagoas!" he shouted.

My eyes went wide. What?

"And to the 20,000 _pretty _young boys we are training to fight in this great army! Tell me, Alexander. Why is it, that your most loyal of all are given satrapies in the most remote of your kingdoms? Do you not see you leave them in exile!"

"Exile? You call governing this great province exile?"

"Have any of your other generals received satrapies so far from home?"

"Ah well, if that is what you consider a problem, then you won't make a very good satrap, will you Cleitus?" Alexander chuckled.

Cleitus laughed as well, although I could see it was a laugh of disgust. No matter if Cleitus was drunk, he was clearly unhappy, and would make his sentiments known.

"So be it!" he lifted his glass in a mocking toast. "Then let me rot in Macedonian rags, rather than shine in Eastern pomp! You accept Greek gifts as a son of Zeus, do you not?"

Alexander took another sip of wine.

"Only when offered."

"Then why don't you refuse these vain flatteries? What freedom is this to bow before _you_?"

"You bow down before Heracles, do you not, and he was mortal. _But_, a son of Zeus."

Ah yes, eventually, the subject would always change to Alexander being the son of Zeus. No one knew if this was true, although there were rumours of Alexander's mother, Olympias, having cavorted with a snake, and everyone understood that Zeus often took the form of a snake to seduce the women he wanted.

"How can you so young compare yourself to Heracles?"

Alexander leaned forward over his goblet. "Why not?"

His tone was demeanor were so threatening and violent that the majority of the people who had been in the room thought it best to get up and leave. I would have done the same, if I were not so close to both parties involved.

"I've accomplished more in my years, traveled twice as far…" Alexander continued.

"Heracles did it by himself!" Cleitus interrupted. "Did you conquer Asia by yourself, Alexander? Who planned the Asian invasion, was it not your father? Or is his blood no longer good enough?"

The whole thing was getting out of hand. Again, I do not remember much of what was being said, I was too focused on my father-in-law and my best friend's body language to pay attention to what they were saying. Alexander looked ready to run right into Cleitus and wrestle him to the ground, and vice versa.

"You insult me, Cleitus. You mock my family, be careful!"

"Never would your father have taken barbarians as his friends, asked us to fight in battle as equals! Are we not good enough any longer?" he paused for breath. "I remember a time, where we could talk as men, straight to the eye. None of this scraping, groveling… and now you kiss _them_?" he motioned to the few Persian men who had stayed behind, to step in if needed. "Take a barbarian, _childless _wife, and dare call her queen?"

"Go quickly, Cleitus, before you ruin your life," Alexander's voice was shaking.

Cleitus advanced, most definitely over-confident due to the fact that he was making Alexander so nervous. "Does your great pride fear the gods any longer?" He paused, gauging Alexander's silence as another opportunity to continue his tirade. "This army? This army is your blood, boy!" Cleitus shouted. "Without it you're nothing!"

I saw Alexander's eyes go wide in terror. I do not know what he was seeing, or whom at that point., but whatever (or whomever) it was scared him half to death.

"You no longer serve the purpose of this march! Get him out of my sight!"

"I no longer serve a purpose? So what was I doing when I saved your puppy life at Gaugamela? What about poor Parmenion? You send me to do your evil deed, and yet I serve no purpose?" I could see the absolute rage on Cleitus' face as others attempted to drag him from the room.

"Arrest him for treason!" Alexander screamed, now in absolutely no condition to make any rational decision about anything.

"Alexander, back up!" I grabbed him under the arms and tried to pull him toward the other side of the room. He struggled against me, rage and drink giving him strength he would not possess without the two combined. "Alexander! Come away!"

I saw Cleitus return, still shouting at Alexander, something about how if he had never taken us so far from home to achieve something impossible, we would not be forced to mate with brown apes.

There were others things said, although the last thing I heard was Cleitus shouting that Alexander and his barbarian mother live in shame.

Now that was going too far. No matter who you are, mothers are sacred. You do not attack anyone's mother if you do not wish retaliation. Despite all efforts to hold him back, Alexander broke free of my grasp, wrestled a spear out of someone's hands, and that was it.

He'd run Cleitus clean through.

Immediately I could see the look of horror on his face.

"Cleitus…" he sobbed, dropping to his knees. "Oh… Cleitus…" he ran a hand through the back of Cleitus' hair, as though scared he might wake up.

And then he let out a cry, like the sound a wounded animal makes while dying.

All I could see as Alexander was led away into his chambers, Cassander and Ptolemy supporting him under the arms, was my father-in-law dead at my feet. I turned him over so that he was lying on his side, and stared at him.

His mouth and eyes were still wide open in shock. I am not sure he even knew what was going on when the spear went through him. With the amount of wine he had drunk I wonder if he even felt it.

I ran my hand over his face, closing his eyes.

And then it hit me.

This was a man who was as loyal to his family as he was to his king. This was a man who, although he despised the fact that I existed, gave me his daughter's hand in marriage. This was a man who had two grandchildren whom he had never seen by his only beloved daughter. He'd died for absolutely no reason at all, and I had done nothing to stop it.

I was as much a monster as those who slaughtered women and children in an attempt to conquer a village.

But I had been part of that all throughout Alexander's marches, I could not deny it.

And the worst part of this was that I now had to bury Cleitus in India, write to Shaye and tell her what had happened and what a monster I was for my part in his death, and then I had to go and comfort the man who had killed him.

Nothing, not even the entire world united as one, was worth this.


	4. We're Forgiven

**I'veAbandonedControl: With Alexander spiralling out of control, I should think it was little wonder that it would affect the army, especially those closest to him, and Hephaestion is not immune. I can understand wanting to embrace new things, but I think many of the men in the army were suffering from culture shock. After killing Cleitus, Hephaestion may very well have been ashamed of him, although I've got my own take on that in this chapter. Thank you very much for your review**

**classyblue: I'm so glad you enjoy the story as much as you do. Usually I wouldn't have a new chapter up so soon after posting the previous one, but I finished this one and couldn't wait to share it. Thank you so very much for your review.**

**A/N: As it is the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, I've uploaded this chapters as a Thanksgiving treat to all my Canadian readers! Enjoy, and please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open**

**ooOoo**

_Well I would like to think, the world hasn't seen, that all the best is still to come, and I know that life ain't easy. I pass them sleeping on the streets, with blood stained hands and dirty feet, and I can't ignore that, any more than I already have. So we laugh, and we smile, and we play our games of sweet denial. But don't tell me we're forgiven. If we hold, our breath, if we kneel right down and just repent, you can't tell me we're forgiven._

_We're Forgiven- The Calling_

**ooOoo**

I had been awake the entire night, drafting a letter to my wife, trying to explain to her what had happened. But how could I do this? How could I explain to her that I had played a part in her father's death? After all, she'd been fifteen when we had set off, given birth at the age of sixteen, and now at eighteen, her father was dead.

However, if she chose to forgive me, I knew she would hold it over my head for the rest of my life. If she were anything like her father, and I knew she was, she could damn well tell me that I would never see the children in retaliation. It was increasingly likely that this would happen. If I did not do something soon, I would never make it back to Macedonia, and as such, never meet them. I so wanted to ask how they were, what they had accomplished, but this was not the time to do so. I had no guarantee that the letter would ever make it back to them.

On the floor by my feet, Alexander stirred. He had secluded himself since Cleitus had died; only myself and Bagoas had seen to him. I would not have stayed had he not begged me to do so, and I say this because Bagoas meant more to him at this point. He needed Bagoas more than he needed me, and I was perfectly content with that knowledge.

"Let me pass!" I heard someone insist.

"He says not, Your Majesty."

"I am the Queen!" she growled, undoubtedly pushing past the guard.

I sprung to my feet and went outside to meet her.

"I want to see him, I have waited three days," she put her hands on my arms.

"He says none, not even you."

I blocked her path as she tried to push past me.

"He needs me!"

"No, he doesn't."

"And he needs _you?_" she spat at me.

_Of course he needs me. _

I smirked, and turned from her and her companion, whom I recognized as none other than Cassander.

"Hephaestion, you make a mistake!" he shouted after me.

_Shut up you old prick, we all know you've been in Roxana's bed, _I muttered. Of course, I would not say this out loud. Alexander did not need to hear such a thing in his present condition.

I went back through the tent flaps to find Alexander sitting up, a snake curling in his lap, and Bagoas holding a goblet to his lips.

"The army needs your reassurance," I told him flatly. I had had enough of this moping. As much as he regretted killing Cleitus, I regretted the fact that I had had to tell my wife her father was dead, that I had lost a father-in-law. And here I was trying to comfort the man who had killed him.

Surely I am not the only one who sees something wrong with that.

"They can fend for themselves, tell them I am ill," he mumbled, staring at me with dead, bloodshot eyes.

"You come from and lead men who took and never regretted, you're Alexander!" I bent down and shook him, as though trying to convince him of his own worth. It is never an easy thing to do, no matter who you are.

"Have I become so arrogant that I am blind? How could I not have seen this coming?"

"No," I said in answer to the first question. "But sometimes, to expect the best of everyone _is _arrogance."

His face contorted into the most pitiful sob I had ever heard.

"Then Cleitus spoke true, I am a tyrant!" he laid his head in Bagoas' lap, sobbing.

"You're mortal, and they _know_ it." I insisted. "And they forgive you because you make them proud of themselves."

He did not seem to hear me. Even I could not do anything for him now. I do not know had caused this absolute collapse in his resolve. It could not have just been Cleitus' death. As far as I can see, it was the event the pushed him over the edge, but it was not the cause. Eventually, I left him on the floor with Bagoas and went back to writing the letter that I knew would shatter my wife's heart in pieces.

_My dear Shaye,_

_Let me start first by telling you that I miss you. It has been over two years since I have seen you, and there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of you. There are no words to tell you how I wish I could see you once again, and to hold you and the children close._

_However, there will be another time for me to write you regarding Sevastianos and Melissa. Now I must write of something else entirely. We are in India presently, and we will not be leaving for quite some time, as Alexander is quite ill at the moment. He is not in danger of dying, but for now we must stop. The men need a rest, as do I. _

_But I am not writing to tell you this. I am writing to tell you that Cleitus, your father, met his death in this strange, unknown land. It was an honourable death, and he did not die alone. I was with him, and he bid me tell you that he loved you, and the children. I am sorry to have to tell you this, my love, but it is the only thing I can do whilst I am so far from you. Anything of his that I can bring back, I shall._

_With love to you and the children,_

_Your husband,_

_Hephaestion_

I knew that for her to read this, even if it was not the entire truth, would devastate her, but there was nothing else I could do. If I did not tell her this partial truth, she would hate me more for keeping the truth from her (in truth, what woman would want to know that her father met his death in a drunken brawl with a king less than half his age?). Again, I was damned if I did and damned if I did not.

I heard Alexander choke and cough from his sobbing, and looked over to see that he was not dying. He had simply exhausted himself, as had I. I folded the letter I had written, and walked out. My tent was not far from Alexander's, but tonight I had no wish to be near him at all.

None of my men followed me as I moved toward my tent. They had all seen what had happened to Cleitus, they knew he was my father-in-law, and they knew I mourned him. It is not natural for me to be so forward with my emotions, though I know there is no shame in such a thing. But when, and if, I must grieve, no matter for whom, I prefer to do so in private.

I went to my tent, sat on my bed, and stared at nothing in particular. All I needed was a rest, and then I was sure I could keep myself together. Alexander losing his resolve was one thing, as he was the king and as such the king was entitled to do whatever he pleased. I, on the other hand, was not. I was a general in the King's army, and I had to conduct myself properly.

But I also understand that we cannot go through life as though our hearts are made of stone. My men understand this as well, but there is still very little I can do to pacify this situation. If Alexander believes himself to be a tyrant when he is this far gone with drink, there is no guarantee that he would not begin acting as such when he is sober.

For the first time in my life I had no idea what to do, or if anything could be done at all.

**ooOoo**

I soon realized that there was absolutely nothing more I could offer, both to Alexander and his army. With Cleitus dead and Shaye's mother aging, I needed to return to Macedonia. I understood that to be in India and attempting to ride back on my own was potentially suicide, but I had risked my life on several occasions for the sake of Alexander's 'kingdom', and with Cleitus' death (and I suppose even before that), I now understood that I could no longer live the life of a soldier. My own mother had never wanted me to be a soldier, but when she died my father had insisted. I suppose I brought it on myself by proclaiming at the age of seven that I wanted to stay with Alexander and learn the art of war. But what seven- year- old decides what he wants to be and sticks to his decision? Children are indecisive; they change their minds every few minutes.

Why in the name of Hades had my father listened to me?

There was only one thing I could do. I needed to leave, but I had no way out. Alexander needed me; anyone with even just one eye could see that. But _why _did he need me? To satisfy some sick desire to have me with him always? Was he so dependent on me that he could not function without looking to me for silent reassurance? He had many other generals and advisors to assist him. Although he had told me he trusted only me, and that he could not live without me. I did not believe it was true. He _could_ live without me, he just did not believe he could because he had never needed to do so. Many men suffered just as much as I did, believing that they were some indispensable part of Alexander's campaign, bleeding for and dying for a cause that they had long forgotten. I wonder though, did I really have any right to complain? Perhaps I did, but perhaps not.

If I did not do something soon, however, I was sure I would go mad.

Relief, or perhaps salvation, came in the form of someone I had never expected. Within my tent, where I lay on my bed and stared at nothing in particular, my body began to cry out in agony. We had been mobile for so long I had ignored whatever injuries I may have acquired. Of course I always treated the ones that bled, since one could become seriously ill if they were not treated immediately, but the bruises and knots in one's back do tend to build up if nothing is done about them.

I bit down on my tongue and rolled over on to my stomach, moving my cloak out of the way so that the night air might do it some good. I folded my arms across my pillow and rested my head, groaning.

I did not question who came to my tent and sat down on the bed beside me. Nor did I question whom it might be when they put their hands on my shoulders and began to work their hands in small circles. The hands felt rough, and calloused, but the pressure exerted was absolutely exquisite.

I did not consider any of this odd, and frankly, at that point, I did not care.

Then suddenly I felt them bend and kiss me lightly on the shoulder.

I jumped, and flipped myself over on to my back as they released me.

"What in the name of Hades?" I whispered, harshly.

"I apologize if I startled you," came the reply in the dark.

Wait a minute, I knew that voice, and it was not Alexander's voice. I knew better than to expect him.

"Hold on," I reached for the torch beside the bed and lit it as quickly as I could. With light filling the tent I could see who it was, and it was the most unusual sight.

"Cassander?"

"Yes, that _is_ my name." He answered with irony, and this I could not miss in his voice. "I am surprised you have not forgotten."

"I've known you since boyhood, Cassander. I do not believe I could forget who you are," I pulled the cloak on over my shoulders. "Now, what are you doing in here? Do you not have your own troops to attend to?"

"I do, but they are at rest."

"Which is what you should be doing also," I spat, pushing my hand into the bed to exert pressure on my wrist. If I had this slight, dull pain to distract me, I could resist the urge to either turn over and ignore him, or to land my fist in his face for startling me.

"I came because I wanted a talk."

"And you want a talk with me?" I was more than surprised. We were officially of the same rank, we shared the same duties, and we each commanded our own troop. What could he possibly need to discuss with me that he could not discuss with one of the other generals?

"Yes, I want a talk with you, Hephaestion."

I shrugged. "Fine. What is it you want to ask?"

He drew in a breath, and the question came out in a fury as I have never heard from him.

"Have you ever lain with another man?"

My brow furrowed. Of course I had, what kind of a question was that? I had lain with Alexander more than I had lain with my own wife. I was not ashamed of it, nor should I have been. I did not believe love to be a discriminating force.

And I told him so.

"Were you in love with this person?"

"Whom? My wife, or the other man?"

"The other man."

"I believe so."

"You believe so, or you know for certain?"

This entire line of questioning seemed odd. What exactly was he looking for? A name? He knew whom I had lain with; it was only one of two people. It was either my wife, or Alexander. Cassander did not know what my wife's name was (remember I said that Shaye and I had married quickly and in secret, as she was already expecting when we finally _did_ marry), nor would he ever know. So, with the amount of questions he was asking, and the nature of said questions, I could only assume he was struggling to ask me something related to this.

"Why are you asking me this, Cassander? What is it that you want to know?"

"I can see in your eyes that you do not love him." It was a harsh, but true statement. "You lay with him because it was convenient, or he would guarantee his protection if you did, it had nothing to do with love."

"You are not a seer, there is no way you could know if that were true," I snapped. "You are asking me all these questions and insisting that you know these other accusations to be true, yet you offer no proof."

I was even more surprised when he gingerly put his hands on my cheeks. There was a look of pain and longing in his eyes as he gently leaned forward and kissed me softly.

"I have never known the comfort of another in my bed, Hephaestion," he confided to me.

I did not see how this was possible. He had grown up in the same environment as Alexander and I had, he'd been to countless weddings and celebrations where sexual congress was the normality. I had seen him with plenty of the girls willing, and offering to go to bed with him, and I had seen him walk away with at least one of them on his arm.

"And so you came to me for this?" I asked, completely bewildered. "You want to go to bed with _me_? Simply so you can say you know what it is to be with someone?"

He sighed. I could see it was difficult for him to admit, but he did.

"Grant me this one night?"

I kissed him this time. I turned, and he turned with me, and once Apollo had sent the sun over the horizon the next morning, I awoke to find myself tangled in a blanket, Cassander sleeping on his stomach beside me.


	5. Push

**classyblue: Well we all know that Cassander is a bit of a snake in the grass, but for this story I don't find him _too_ difficult. Who knows, he may surprise you this chapter. I have a lot planned for this story, with twists and turns you may not expect. Thank you for the review.**

**gloria2729: Why thank you! I don't know how long the story will actually be, but I'm happy you're enjoying it. Thank you for the review, it's always nice to see a new reviewer.**

**A/N: Now this chapter has something you may not expect, but this is how the chapter played out. It's a little difficult to explain, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.  
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**ooOoo**

_She said I don't know if I've ever been good enough, I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in. And I don't know if I've ever been really loved, by a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's gotta give, and I'm a little bit angry. Well, this ain't over, no not here. Not while I still need you around. You don't own me, we might change it, yeah we just might feel good._

_Push- Matchbox 20_

**ooOoo**

I rolled out of bed and shook my hand. I was drunk, I _had _to be drunk. Why else would I wake up and find Cassander in my bed?

And then it hit me.

He had _asked _me to love him for one night, and, from the looks of things, I had.

Ah damn it all to Hades!

I walked about and dressed quickly, hoping to avoid both Cassander and the king so early in the morning. I hoped Cassander would think nothing of it and perhaps we would agree that neither of us would ever speak of it again. Alexander, on the other hand…

It seemed the gods were not with me that morning. As soon as I stepped out of the tent I saw Alexander make his way toward me.

"How fared you last night?"

"Hmm?" I answered, feigning deafness. "Oh, no worse than you, my King."

I had never called Alexander 'My King', he had always been Alexander, or Achilles. I do not know what could have changed in one night with someone other than he.

Or perhaps this was a long time coming, and I had just not realized it. Or I had indeed, and had just chosen to ignore it.

"I called for you last night."

"Did you?"

"Yes, I did. And I waited. And you did not respond."

"I am not your whore, Alexander. Nor am I an animal, I am not at your beck and call."

"Then answer me this, Hephaestion," he still seemed a little worse for wear after our talk the night before. "What were you doing if you could not be bothered with me?"

"Same as any other general in the camp, I suppose," I answered. If any one of the generals who were not on the watch for the night were wise, they would have been asleep.

I was not so wise, it seems.

"I see," he answered. "So perhaps it is not a stretch to assume that you laid with Cassander last night."

Of course, the king will always find out everything within his own army.

Damn it!

"Yes," there was no use trying to deny it. "And what of it?"

"Why?"

_Pardon me? _

"Why not?" I threw the words that had started the fight that led to Cleitus' death back in his face. "Since I have told you why I could not be bothered with you, you tell me this, Alexander. Why is it that you may lay with eunuchs and your wife, whom none of us approve of, while I may not lay with whomever I choose?" I paused to take a breath. "Why is it not appropriate for me to share my body with someone who has never experienced the mere concept of loving another while you take numerous men and women into your bed?"

Suddenly I could not read the expression on his face. Although at this point I did not care. In fact, I wondered why I had not asked this of him before. Yes, why was it acceptable for him to whore himself while I was to be his and his alone, excluding my wife in Macedon?

"Because you belong to me," he growled.

I felt my shoulders tense and my breath quicken almost immediately.

"I… belong… to no one," I managed, digging my nails into my palms to keep myself from charging at him. "Not to you, not to my father, not to this Gods- forsaken army!" the rage I had kept so carefully to myself was now bubbling to the surface. By Ares' chains, the man had balls, but I would not allow for him to stake claim on me. Three people, and only three people, would ever have the right to do so, and those three people most certainly did not include Alexander.

If he was hurt by what I said I did not see it in his face.

"If you turn your back on me Phae, so help me Zeus…"

"Your threats do not scare me, Alexander," I approached him, stopping so that my nose was touching his. "Even if Zeus is your father, as you so often claim, I doubt he will help you now."

His eyes were going wide. The man had absolutely no idea what to do.

"Tell me Alexander, how does it feel to know you are at the mercy of someone who can no longer stand the sight of you?"

"Why…"

"Why _what_?" I mocked. "The son of Zeus does not have the answers? How does it feel?"

"Back away, Hephaestion." He was growling at me. I am absolutely surprised he did not charge me and try to slit my throat. "You are a general promoted in _my_ army. I gave you your station, believe you me, I can most definitely relieve you of it."

"_Do it_," I challenged him. "Take it from me. I could not care less." I unhooked the broach that held my cloak around my neck and threw it into the sand. To make matters worse, I spat on it, to show Alexander just how fed up I was with how far he had strayed from his original goal.

Without hesitation, I turned from him and mounted my horse, who just happened to be tethered nearby. I realized that by leaving I was abandoning my men, and my king, but I was too incensed to care. They were grown men, Alexander could divide them up among his remaining generals. He did not need me any more than he needed his mother nattering in his ear.

"Do not ride after me, for I do not exist any longer, my King," I used whatever words I could to break his heart without actually cursing him. "And if you must speak of me, my name is Hephaestion, not Phae." I turned my horse and took one last look at the entire camp. "Long live the King." I spat at his feet as I rode away.

Little did I know that someone was already preparing to ride after me.

**ooOoo**

I rode as fast as humanly possible, allowing my horse a rest when he refused to go any further. Dismounting, it wasn't long before I was ambushed, beaten within an inch of my life (or so I thought), and left to rot. I'd fought, trying to get a good look at whomever it was, but in the dark it was nearly impossible. Oddly, they did not take anything, leaving my horse well enough alone. Not even a knife wound either. It only served to reason that they had only wanted to beat me, most likely for leaving Alexander. But I do not believe he would have sent them, no matter how angry he was.

Unless I am so completely removed from how Alexander had changed, I had no choice but to believe he would not send them.

Regardless of whether or not Alexander had done so, I was in terrible shape. I could feel my face absolutely swollen and puffed, my back screaming in agony, the muscles in my arms and legs knotted from both the beating and too much time on a horse.

Zeus protect me, I had absolutely no strength to attempt to set up camp or even build a fire. I was just going to have to use whatever I had taken with me when I had left, which admittedly was not much. Since I had no other choice, I pulled a blanket from the horse's packs and curled underneath it, hoping for at least a few hours sleep before setting off again.

I awoke in the pitch dark to the thundering of hooves. Ignoring the aches and pains, I struggling to my feet, but promptly lost my balance and fell again. This time there were intense pains in my sides, making it painful to breathe. If I could not get up, I was just going to have to wait for death.

"Hephaestion?" I heard.

Wait, I knew that voice!

"Hephaestion?" the voice called again. I heard the familiar sound of someone dismounting and running toward me. I felt a hand on my shoulder as they turned me over. "By Zeus, Hephaestion, what caused this?"

"Bandits," I answered, coughing as he lifted me and supported my walk back toward a tree. If he could sit me up, he said, he could look and assess how bad the damage was.

I groaned, in far too much pain to protest. I realized a little too late that there was no way he would be able to see anything, as I had not built a fire, but he had already started such preparation.

"Cassander?" I managed, my breathing heavy.

"Yes?"

"Why did you ride after me?"

I heard him sigh and he stoked the fire. "You are a general, and you had abandoned your troops."

"As are you, did you not do the same?"

"My men are looked after until I return," he reasoned. "From the way you left I am going to assume you are not joining me."

"No."

He nodded. Satisfied with the fire as it was, he made his way back over to me.

"You should return," he looked over my face first. "Your eyes are blackened, I would not be surprised if your nose were broken. I learned from Aristotle that a black eye is often a result of a broken nose. But your voice sounds the same so I do not believe a broken nose is the cause. The eyes we can work with later, lay down on your side."

I did as he asked, silently remarking that his thoughts seemed askew. "Why should I return, when I have nothing to return to?"

"You have your men, your commission, Alexander…"

"Alexander…" I attempted to laugh. "Alexander is not mine. He has his wife, he has his eunuch, he does not need me."

"What if I told you I did?" he gingerly removed my tunic and pressed his fingers to my ribs.

"Ow!" I winced, the word catching in my throat. "What? Since when do you need me?"

"Perhaps I always have. Even if what happened between us should not have happened at all. It was a foolish request on my part, I know now that I should not have asked you."

"Consider it foolish, do you?" I asked as he let my tunic down. Sitting up, I managed a smile. "You know you cannot practice self-gratification for the rest of your life, that's just not natural. I do not consider it foolish to love another, even if it is just for one night."

"Do you not have your wife?"

"Yes, although she is home in Macedonia."

By Zeus, how did he know about Shaye?

Then again, she was the daughter of one of the most respected generals in the Macedonian army, it seems only natural that he would know of her and to whom she was married, even if he had long forgotten her name.

He nodded, and I saw his eyes do wide with realization. "Macedonia? That is where you plan on going?"

"Yes."

"It will take you more than a year to get back."

"All the more reason to get going," I answered, attempting to stand up.

"No," Cassander pushed me back to the ground as though I were a child. "Rest here for tonight. I shall keep watch, and in the morning you should be healed enough to go."

I almost could not believe what I was hearing. He was going to let me go? The man would have to lie in telling Alexander he had never found me, but Cassander I always found to be good at keeping secrets.

"Zeus be with you," I muttered as I curled up to sleep.

The morning came all to soon as Cassander helped me to break camp and saddle my horse once again.

"Home with you now, Hephaestion," he told me.

"What shall you tell them?"

"That I never saw you," he confirmed. "Perhaps I shall see you again."

"One day," I answered.

That was the last I saw of him. It took me more than a year to return to Macedon, quaking with fever and chills. There is nothing so disheartening as coming home to see that nothing is the same as whence you left it. In truth I did not expect it to be the same, but I did not expect so many changes.

My father had moved from the home where we had lived to what could only be described as a little smaller than a palace. He had retired long before Philip's death, and I do not believe a pension could support him in a house like this. I rode to the front door, tied my horse, and knocked.

A page opened the door.

"My Lord Hephaestion!" he stammered, not used to the sight of me, certainly not of me shaking with fever. "So soon you return to us!"

"I have been gone nearly 4 years, boy!" I snapped, attempting to stop the shaking. "Seen you my father?"

"Yes sir, I will find him for you." The young boy ran off as I stepped into the doorway. He had hung curtains to separate the rooms, the only wood doors were on the bedrooms and the front of the house. I could only wonder who else lived here, besides my father. I wondered if he had taken any more wives, whether they had children, or even those who were displaced, would they not be able to spend a few nights?

I caught sight of my father, who was quite fit for a man of at least 70 years, although he moved more slowly than I remembered. Still, that was to be expected. I do not believe he ever expected me home, never mind burning with fever.

I took one look at him, muttered 'Father', and collapsed.

**ooOoo**

It seems I have made a habit of waking up in strange places and not remembering how I got there. I awoke to see my father sitting at the bedside, wiping my forehead with a cloth.

"You did not give me a chance to respond before collapsing, my son."

I forced myself to blink in response.

"What happened, Father?" it seemed strange to speak the word. As I said before he and I had a lot of distance between us. We did not speak except in political matters, and regarding the children. Shaye had told me in her letters back to me that he often visited, spending time with them instead of lecturing them on the art of war. I often wonder if Shaye threatened to keep the children from him should he even mention war.

"The page brought me to you, you bid me hello, and fell to the floor," he answered. "It is that simple."

"Oh," I coughed, my body practically lifting from the bed. "Where are we?"

"Do you not recognize it?" he asked, giving me a cup of water. "It is the house we lived in when you first met Alexander. We moved to be closer to Philip, do you not remember?"

"No, _I_ stayed in Pella to be closer to Alexander. I do not remember where you moved."

"Either way I bought it after you left."

"Surely you do not need so much space if it is just yourself here."

He smiled. In truth I do not remember the last time I had seen my father smile.

"True, but I am not the only one."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Go to sleep, son. I shall tell you, once you are well."

I could no longer fight to keep my eyes open, and so I slept.


End file.
